


Crashing, Hit A Wall

by Reyn



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Mr. & Mrs. Smith Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, DickDami Week, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyn/pseuds/Reyn
Summary: His marriage was failing.Despite stubbornly trying to ignore it, it was a fact that weighed heavily on Damian’s mind as he set up his rifle in the grungy bathroom five stories up from the cafe that sat at the opposite street corner.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the first lyric in 'Don't Let Me Down' as sung by Fame on Fire & Arcaeus :)
> 
> Written for DickDamiWeek

His marriage was failing.

Despite stubbornly trying to ignore it, it was a fact that weighed heavily on Damian’s mind as he set up his rifle in the grungy bathroom five stories up from the cafe that sat at the opposite street corner.

One would think that having a yoga and pilates instructor as a significant other would forever keep things spiced up in the bedroom, but their passion had simmered down to the level of a boiled fish.

Damian blamed the fact that Richard was too open with his celebrity status thanks to Instagram. This led him to being highly requested by the rich and famous all around the world. And Richard had a hard time saying no to his adoring fans. So off he constantly went, carted to random ends of the world, where he taught exclusive classes for exorbitant amounts of money to whomever would have him.

Granted, Damian’s own schedule was hardly much better thanks to being a world renowned assassin.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t trying. He had specifically requested the agency cull his assignments in an attempt to spend more time at home.

A lot of good that did when Richard notified him right before bed that he would be taking off this morning for a private class up in Maine.

He was gone before dawn, leaving Damian to wake up alone to an emailed top secret mission request.

Damian accepted; partially out of spite, and partially because he just didn’t have anything better to do when Richard wasn’t around. At least this assignment was only one town over, which meant no jet lag to worry about later when Richard finally decided to come home.

This mission was also a time sensitive one, further ensuring Damian would make it home before dinner.

The target currently went by the name ‘Tiger’, although he was better known as ‘Agent 1′ within his agency Spyral. Damian had never heard of him, which meant the man was damn good at what he did.

Not good enough, if the League of Shadows was able to gather enough intel to put a hit on him, Damian decided as he carefully lined up his viewfinder with the cafe’s outdoor seating area.

He scanned through the patrons, unable to spot Tiger at first. That didn’t mean he wasn’t there. The information in the file had been extremely confident that this was the meeting spot.

Damian looked again, and managed to find him on his third sweep. The beard was gone, which made sense considering Tiger’s ethnicity and the current political climate here in the States. He was also dressed in an ill-fitted business suit, giving him the appearance of a struggling white collar worker, which helped him to blend in with the lunch hour rush. 

What really threw Damian off, though, was the fact that his eyes were uncovered. What few photos they had of Tiger all had him hiding behind sunglasses large enough to cover even his eyebrows. 

To see so much of him had Damian second guessing his identification long enough to not only stall his trigger finger, but for someone to come and join Tiger at his table, prompting the man to quickly stand and hug his new companion.

Pulling back his scope enough to take in the scene, Damian’s jaw dropped as he recognized just who the newcomer was.

Dear G-d, Allah, and Adonai, Richard was cheating on him.

What? Why? Why was Richard there?

Damian leaned back and his eyes darted down and around as he searched his memory from last night. Richard had definitely told him Maine and not Metropolis, right? Why would he lie about the location of his yoga class?

Confused and hurt, Damian’s gaze darted back into his viewfinder, where he watched Tiger slide a leather dossier across the small table.

The file had said nothing on Tiger’s hobbies. Did he do yoga? Did he do yoga regularly? Was he the reason Richard was summoned to some of the most random locations, where he happily went with a remorseless, “I’ll miss you!” and perked step out the door? Was he the reason for their now boiled fish of a sex life??

Damian’s finger tightened on the trigger.

But before he could finish the pull, his phone pinged.

His time was up. The mission was expired.

Damian was tempted to carry it out regardless.

His phone pinged again, this time for a new assignment.

Frowning, Damian opened the email and felt his world tilt on its axis.

**Target Alias(es)** : Agent 37, Nightwing, Dick  
 **True Identity** : Richard John Grayson-Wayne  
 **Employment** : Spyral Agency

Not even bothering with the other details, Damian swiped down to the attached photo where, sure enough, there was a candid shot of the face of his husband, looking uncharacteristically serious behind a pair of sunglasses as he moved down a crowded street.

Breath escaping him in a shallow gasp, Damian nearly dropped his phone. Richard. His happy-go-lucky, all-around nice guy Richard was a spy?

Readjusting his sniper rifle, Damian aimed it back down at the cafe and peered through the telescope once more.

Richard’s face had gone from friendly and open to pale and slack as he stared at the contents of the open dossier before him. Across the table, Tiger was telling him something. Whatever it was, Richard wasn’t taking it well, judging by the stricken shake of his head.

Damian’s heart ached for him. But as he watched, Richard seemed to gather himself and lock his emotions away, transforming himself into the man in the photo right before Damian’s eyes.

So was this Richard’s true self?

His finger slipped through the trigger.

Three years. They had been together for three years and for all that he loved Richard, Damian found himself sliding into the numb realization that he had exchanged vows with a complete stranger.

How easily he had believed the detailed lies he had been fed. Flying_Grayson, one of the few millennials fortunate enough to be living the social media dream thanks to his extreme physical flexibility and highly aesthetic Instagram posts. Random spenders paying him to travel to exotic locations to feature in his photos. Private students renting him out just to say they’ve met him.

And to him, Damian must have seemed like such a fool. Another one of the mindless cattle who accepted it all at its impressive face value.

Except, with Damian, Richard had decided to take it a step further and mold him into another layer of his cover story.

Down below, Richard’s gaze was darting around the rooftops surrounding them. With each sweep, his eyes lowered a fraction, causing Damian to quickly realize just what he was searching for.

Snipers.

His position in this bathroom wasn’t exactly hidden. Despite the room being next to an alley, the window was open and in clear sight of the cafe. Damian had chosen this spot for its incognito location, something that was rendered void if one knew where to look.

Sure enough, Richard spotted him almost immediately.

The seconds stretched as Damian stared directly into his husband’s cold stare. The ache in his chest had stalled his finger for this long, but logically Damian knew what must be done.

He had already failed one mission. He couldn’t afford to fail another immediately after.

With a slow exhale, the trigger was squeezed.

Down below, the table was flipped, coffee mugs shattered, and screams sounded.

Wasting no time, Damian whirled around and began to break down his rifle.

He missed.

His aim was true, but he knew he missed. 

And with barely minutes’ worth of a head start, he was about to have two Spyral agents on his tail if he didn’t clear out fast enough.

Case packed and phone tucked away, Damian burst from the room and ran down the hall, heading for the opposite end of the building where he could slip out on the emergency stairwell that would drop him off on a different crowded street.

From there, he would head home. Make dinner. And wonder if his husband would bother to come home to confront his lies.


	2. Chapter 2

“My flight got delayed.”

The excuse was right there on the tip of Dick’s tongue if asked.

It was to be the reason behind why his phone was left off. Why he had suddenly pulled over on the drive home to check his car for tracking devices. Why he kept zoning out at the stoplights until those behind him honked. Why he was now sitting in his driveway, unable to drag himself out of the car and into his own home.

Dick looked down at the open dossier he had so foolishly brought back with him. He hadn’t needed it. All the relevant details already existed deep within him. But he still hung onto it as proof that this wasn’t some horrible dream.

There, Damian’s cold gaze stared back at him.

Damian Wayne, formally Damian Al Ghul before he dropped his mother’s name when he was ten and moved to be with his father instead. An international hitman who worked under the guise of an antique weapons collector. And  _lived_  under the guise of Dick’s husband.

Tossing the folder back into the passenger seat, Dick rubbed at his eyes. He knew he would need to go inside the house eventually. Face the truth of what he had thought was the one aspect of his life that was separate from his lies was just as fake and set up as everything else that he did.

Had Damian been ordered to approach him in the first place? Was this the Al Ghuls’ way of keeping tabs on Spyral? Did anything within their relationship even  _mean_  anything to Damian?

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Spyral had found out and had ordered Dick to take his husband out by any means deemed necessary.

Well, too bad for them, but all Dick found necessary was filing for a divorce.

He glanced in the rearview mirror to quickly check on his appearance. Christ, he looked exhausted. 

Shoving open the car door, Dick stepped out to face the music, doing his best not to wince at the twinge in his right ribs.

The house was quiet when he entered, save for the gentle hum of the dishwasher.

“Glad to see you decided to come home.”

Damian was seated at the dining room table, where two meals had been set. Dick’s was displayed with perfect presentation, as always. Damian’s was a disaster of cut up steak and mushed vegetables smeared all over his plate.

Eyeing the out-of-character mess, Dick slowly lowered his bag and slid into his seat.

“Of course,” he said mechanically. “I told you I would be back this evening, didn’t I?”

Damian shrugged and slid some of his food around with his fork, gaze still locked on Dick.

“With how late you are, I figured I had misheard all the relevant bits of information. When you would be home. What you were doing. Where you were even going…”

Dick didn’t pause in his movement, but it was a near thing. Damian had never questioned him before. 

“Were you already half asleep when I told you my itinerary?” Dick teased, picking up his fork. He motioned to Damian’s plate. “What’s wrong with the food?”

“Not hungry.”

Rather than take a bite, Dick poked at the potatoes, examining the seasoning.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t poison it.”

Dick stilled. Was that a confession? But why would a seasoned assassin drop pretenses? ‘Because death was imminent,’ Dick’s brain helpfully supplied. 

Eyes widening, he stood and grabbed his plate.

“It’s ice cold,” he complained. “How long has it been sitting out here?”

He pretended not to hear the grumbled, “Do you mean how long have  _I_  been sitting out here?” as he nearly dashed into the kitchen to throw his food into the microwave.

Earlier today he received a rare target missive demanding he kill Damian. Minutes later, he was nearly taken out by a sniper. Had that been  _Damian_??

But did that mean Damian was after him because he was under orders or because his true identity had been compromised?

Survival instincts kicking into high gear, Dick looked around, mentally plotting the best way to protect himself, escape, and possibly attack if needed.

Good Lord, their house was like a stylized torture chamber. Ancient decorative weapons hung from every wall and lay displayed on multiple shelves. Dick didn’t doubt Damian knew how to use the majority of them, giving the man the obvious advantage.

Feeling emotionally wrung out and trapped, Dick decided to take the easy way out.

-

Damian stiffened at the hard pressure against the back of his head.

“What-?”

“I want a divorce,” Dick announced to his husband’s back.

“And you’re demanding it at gunpoint?” Damian asked incredulously.

“Seems fair since you tried to poison me.”

“I did  _not_ –” A reinforced push with the gun’s barrel stopped him from turning his head. “Richard, you’re being stupid.”

Dick’s barked out laugh held no humor and far too much strain.

“Today, I left the house feeling guilty that my husband would be home alone when he had been looking forward to time together. At the airport, my first cup of coffee was knocked out of my hands, and my second was spilled all over my lap. Right after my flight landed in Maine, I’m told to get back on a plane for an emergency meeting in Metropolis, where I found out the  _man I loved_  is one of the top assassins of the League of Shadows. And then, before I could even digest this information, a sniper tried to take me out on a crowded street in the middle of downtown Metropolis during the lunch hour. You’ll have to forgive me for being a little stupid right now.”

He watched Damian’s throat work. “I apologize for that. I was emotionally compromised at the time. I still am.”

Dick very nearly collapsed in on himself. “That was  _you_??”

Damian whirled around, his eyes wide. “You didn’t know?”

Eyes burning, Dick took several stumbling steps back. He suspected.  _Logically_  he knew. But emotionally…emotionally he didn’t want to believe it.

“Why would you…?”

Damian was on his feet in an instant, clearly wanting to approach, but knew better than to do so.

“I thought you were having an affair!” Damian blurted, hands out to the side where Dick could see them.

The confession certainly helped snap Dick out of his turmoil. “ _What?_  And that’s grounds for trying to kill me??”

Damian dragged his hands through his hair, and extremely uncharacteristic move for him. “I had orders!” he struggled to explain. “To kill Tiger. But then you showed up and I- You’re a yoga instructor who said he was teaching a class at an exclusive getaway in Maine. And instead you were showing up in another city with another man for what looked like a lunch date! What was I  _supposed_  to think?”

Dick remained silent, having no answer for such a question.

“The moment he passed that dossier off to you, my orders abruptly changed,” Damian continued in a quieter tone. “My new target was you, one of Spyral’s top agents.” The hurt that shone through his gaze at that admission had Dick sinking to a new low with the guilt that was now being added to the mix. “I knew we were being watched with how quickly the order came through, and with my judgement severely impaired, I panicked.”

Dick was quiet for a long moment.

“Is your assignment to kill me still active?” he finally asked.

“Yes, but I hardly plan on–”

“Because that mission you saw being passed off to me was to kill you.”

Damian’s eyes widened in shock, and Dick startled at the speed in which Damian backed up and reached for his steak knife to attack.

No. Not attack. Defend.

Dick quickly brought his hands up in peace.

“I’m not going to carry them out!”

The knife stayed clenched in Damian’s fist, but wasn’t raised, as he continued to back up a few more paces. 

“You are going to have to forgive me for being wary, Richard. You just had a gun to my head.”

Dick looked at the gun that was still in his hand and considered how he couldn’t bring himself to toss it aside. Was it because of his training or because of his broken trust in Damian?

“Yeah, but I didn’t actually try to take a shot at you.” The subtle jab had Damian’s gaze narrowing. “All I did was ask for a divorce.”

Damian’s jaw jutted stubbornly. “Between the two, I’d rather you shoot me.”

Dick blinked. And blinked again. 

“Wait. Between death and divorce, you’re saying–”

“I don’t plan on killing you,” Damian interrupted. “What I did earlier was a mistake and I would have regretted it for the rest of my life if I hadn’t missed. I value what we have together and have even been working towards slowly pulling out of the League in an attempt to save it.”

Dick straightened out of his slouched form. “You’ve been pulling out?”

Damian nodded. “I’m sure you haven’t realized how I am home much more often, since you are still as busy as ever. But, Richard, haven’t you noticed? Our marriage was already low even before we were told to kill each other. I wouldn’t even have accepted today’s mission if you had been home with me in the first place.”

Dick  _had_  noticed their failing marriage. But rather than trying to fix it, he had taken to running away as often as he could to avoid the problem. And look where that had ended up.

“Jesus.” He rubbed his palm over his face. “Jesus, okay. Okay.” He tossed his gun towards the distant couch in the living room. The following loud clatter told him he missed, but he wasn’t too concerned. “Let’s fix this.”

With a short nod, Damian put the steak knife back on the table and stepped forward into Dick’s open arms.

Dick held him close, feeling his body automatically relax against Damian’s strong form as the scent of his cologne filled his senses. He missed this. He missed  _them_.

Screw the agency. He wasn’t about to let his husband go.

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @batreyn
> 
> Also, please consider [donating to my Halloween fund](http://ko-fi.com/A672H6).


End file.
